


Lessons

by overcastskeleton



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Attempted Sexual Assault, F/M, Masturbation, Murder, Mutual Masturbation, Smut, Stalking, The reader is unaware she is being watched, Voyeurism, slight exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23503069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overcastskeleton/pseuds/overcastskeleton
Summary: Mando catches you getting off after a lesson in self-defense leaves you a little heated
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Comments: 12
Kudos: 376





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been stuck in my head for a while, but I finally found time to write it! Enjoy!  
> Part 2 coming soon!

You’re sitting at your small station, welding metal pieces together for your next project when Mando ascends the ladder, fresh off a hunt with the faint smell of carbonite clinging to him. 

“You get the bounty?” You ask, tongue poking out between your lips as you work. 

“Yeah,” he says, placing the tracking fob onto your table. “He offered to buy me a new ship if I let him go.” 

“Tell me you  _ at least _ considered it. There’s only so much I can do to keep this junker in flying order. I’m a mechanic, not a miracle worker.”

Mando scoffs. “The Crest’s seen war. It can handle a few bad landings and firefights.” 

“Well even vets need to retire at some point.” You grin up at him.

He shakes his head, and moves into the cockpit. The helmet he wears prevents you from seeing the annoyed look he’s giving you; one that’s begrudgingly laced with affection. “If you don’t like the ship so much, maybe you should find another one to work on,” he suggests, slumping into the pilot’s chair. 

“Tryna get rid of me, Mando?” You tease, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“I don’t like mutineers.” Mando punches in some coordinates. “As soon as we land on Nevarro, I’m circulating an ad for your services,” he says, but the joking edge in this tone negates the threat. 

“Good luck finding someone else to deal with your shit.” You go back to welding, but there’s a dopey smile on your face. 

The two of you fall back into a comfortable silence. The kind of silence you’d quickly grown acquainted with since you started tagging along on the bounty hunter’s adventures. You’d had to. Mando was a man of few words in the beginning, but little by little light conversations peppered the quiet interludes as he got used to having another presence on the ship.

He walks back into the engineering bay a few minutes later and unceremoniously drops a blaster onto the table in front of you with a dull  _ clank _ , and no further explanation. 

You push the visor back to rest on your forehead and wipe the sweat off of your face with the back of your glove, leaving a smudge of grease on your chin. “What’s that?” You eye the weapon and raise an eyebrow in his direction. 

“Blaster.” Mando rests his hands on his utility belt. “NN-14,” he says as if the little detail acts as further clarification for why it’s sitting on your station. It doesn’t. 

You roll your eyes. “Obviously.” You set your tools down and pull off your gloves. “Think you got enough weapons yet? I don’t think your belt can handle any more.” 

“It’s not for me.” 

“Then who’s it for?” Your eyebrows furrow. 

He pushes it towards you slowly. “You.” 

“Me? I don’t need a weapon.” 

“That incident on Corellia says that you do.” Mando crosses his arms over his chest. 

Your eyes fall to your fidgeting fingers and your face warms as you remember the botched trip to the Corellian system. You needed a part for the ship, but Mando had a bounty to track down, so you decided you could handle the drop-off on your own. Unfortunately for you, the deal went sideways, and you found yourself held at knife-point while the scammers robbed you. No bodily harm, but a significant loss of credits and no part for your ship. Mando, ever the gentleman, tracked down the assholes and managed to recover your stolen credits, but not before he gave you an earful about the dangers of the Corellian underworld. Despite how angry he was, you found it very sweet that he cared about you enough to lecture you. 

“Okay, I’ll admit that Corellia was a mess.” You hold your hands up. “But I think we need to talk about your solution for the problem. I mean a blaster, really?” 

“You’re lucky you got away without a scratch. This’ll even the odds next time.” 

“There won’t be a next time.” 

“You run with a bounty hunter, trust me, there’s gonna be a next time.” 

You stare down at the blaster like it’s a venomous snake, coiled and ready to strike. “What good is that thing if I don’t even know how to use it? I’d wind up hurting myself before I hurt anyone else.” 

His eyes travel over the tense contour of your shoulders, to the apprehensive look in your eyes. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll teach you,” Mando reassures you. “Besides, I can’t risk losing my mechanic, who else would put up with my shit?” He picks up the gun and holds it out to you. 

His words make your heart skip a beat, the small crush you harbor for him coloring his words with more affection than what he probably intends. 

You take it from him and wrap your fingers around the leather hilt. The blaster is heavy. The cool metal of it foreign and awkward in your hand, a hand made to build things, not destroy. Deft, calloused fingers designed to twist widgets and connect wires, not wrap around worn leather and pull a trigger. 

But underneath the anxiety that came with holding a literal agent of destruction, was the sharp rush of adrenaline as you studied how the chrome shone in the dim light of the ship. It was only matched by the curiosity that made you want to take the blaster apart and see how it worked.

You sigh, and put the blaster back on the table. “Okay, I’ll give it a try.”

Mando raps his knuckles on the table. “Good. As soon as we land and I can offload this bounty, you’ll have your first lesson.” He makes his way back into the cockpit. “Buckle up, we’re taking off.” 

“The hell am I supposed to do with this thing?” You ask, jumping to your feet. 

“Secure it.” Comes his very unhelpful reply. 

_ Thanks _ . You look around your work station frantically for something to put the blaster in, but find nothing. So, against your better judgement, you pick it up gingerly and shove it into the waistband of your trousers. It digs into your hip uncomfortably as you sit in the co-pilot chair, raising goosebumps on your skin. You shift in your seat the entire ride back, unable to relax with it’s rigid weight pressed tightly against your body. 

* * *

Your first lesson is two days later. Mando wakes you up at the break of dawn with a rough shake of your shoulder. You stir awake slowly, and look up at him through bleary eyes. 

“Get dressed. I’ll be outside,” he says and exits the ship. 

“Where are we going?” You ask a few minutes later, a yawn distorting your words. 

He doesn’t speak, just makes his way through the streets, still quiet and uncrowded because of the disgustingly early hour. You rub at your eyes as you trudge through the city behind him. 

“Did we really have to start at the ass-crack of dawn?” You wrap your cloak tighter around you to shield your body from the chilly morning air. 

“I’ve got a busy day.” He shrugs, passing through the city gates. 

“So nice of you to carve time out of your schedule.” You mutter crankily. 

You follow him around the east side of the wall. The NN-14, tucked snugly into the holster that Mando brought you yesterday, hits the top of your thigh with every step. You drag your feet, absentmindedly kicking up sand in your wake. Your mind wanders off, focused on blueprints and half-baked ideas, anything to distract you from the shaking in your hands and your fluttering heart. 

Mando stops suddenly, and you bump into him, knocking your head against the metal of his chipped armor. 

“Ow!” You groan, rubbing your smarting forehead. “ _ Shit _ .” 

He turns to face you, ignoring your sigh of pain. “We’re gonna work on the basics first.” Mando yells over the wind that whips around the two of you. “Take off the cloak, it’ll only get in the way.”

“We couldn’t have done this on the ship?” You ask, balling up the cloak and tossing it to the side. 

“I wasn’t going to risk you pulling the trigger on accident and putting a hole in the wall.” Mando rests his hands on his utility belt. “Show me your stance.” 

You take the blaster from the holster with shaky fingers and do your best to imitate the photos you’d seen in posters and books. The attempt is laughable, but rather than tease your pathetic one-handed stance, Mando just nods. 

“Needs some work. But it shows promise.” He walks around you slowly, looking you up and down. “I’m gonna fix your stance, okay?” 

You nod, swiping your tongue over your bottom lip. 

“Spread your legs,” he says, his modulated voice sounding suddenly in your ear. 

You whip your head around to look at him. “ _ What _ ?” You squeak, as a dull heat drops low in your stomach. 

“For balance. You shoot like that, and the kickback will knock you flat on your ass,” Mando explains, oblivious to the shiver that works its way down your spine. “Put one foot slightly in front of the other too.” He taps the inside of your ankle with his foot, and you adjust accordingly.

He’s close now, so much so that you can feel his cool armor through the thin material of your shirt. It sends another bout of shivers down your spine, and you clench your jaw and hold your breath. The blaster shakes in your hands, but you’re not sure whether it’s the nerves or Mando’s proximity. 

“Relax.” He presses his hand between your rigid shoulder blades, lightly kneading out the tension. “Focus.” 

Maker, you’re trying, but with the way his hands are traveling down your arms slowly, leaving electricity in their wake, you fear that if you relax, you’ll fall over. Your chest heaves, and you’re very happy for the whirling wind that obscures your embarrassingly shallow breaths. 

“Keep this hand straight, it’s the one you’ll aim with. The other one is for support, don’t cup the bottom, put your hand here, like this.” Mando’s fingers cover your own. “Good.” His hand falls lightly to your hip, and your knees buckle slightly at the praise. “Now remember, keep your shoulders up, and brace yourself, or you’ll fall over.” 

You nod, trying to focus on the lesson, and not the gloved hands that cover your own, dwarfing them in size. But the sharp contrast between the warmth that seeps through his gloves and the cold metal of the pistol competes for your attention, and the broad chest that’s pressed against your back only draws awareness to the fact that your clit throbs with each of his instructive touches. 

Mando withdraws his hands from your sides, but keeps his body pressed to yours. When he speaks, his voice is low in your ear. “See that tree over there?” He leans around you to point. “Aim for it, try your best.”

You bite your bottom lip and shake the tension from your arms. You lift the blaster again, eyes drifting from your target down to your arms as you double check your stance. 

“Eyes up,” Mando mumbles, gently tipping your jaw upwards with two fingers. 

“Eyes up,” you repeat, squeezing your thighs together at his touch. So gentle for a man who has only known violence and death for most of his life. 

“Turn the safety off, and pull the trigger,” he whispers huskily, and you almost wonder if he’s experiencing the same desire that’s coursing through your veins. 

Your index finger trembles as it brushes over the trigger. You squint at the target, push out all competing thoughts and square your shoulders. You know the possibility of hitting it on the first try was slim to none, but you really want to, solely to impress Mando and hear his whispered praise again. 

You take a deep breath, and prepare to shoot, but the second before you pull the trigger, Mando’s hands land on your hips, shattering your flimsy concentration. The blast from the NN-14 goes wide, missing the tree by almost a foot. The force of it ripples from the end of your fingertips, up your arm and to your shoulders. It knocks you off balance, and you stumble backward, right into Mando, who’s grip tightens on your sides to keep you upright. 

“You didn’t brace,” he notes, but the criticism falls on deaf ears. 

You stare down at your hands. They tingle with energy from the blast. Your blood roars in your ears, your heart beats against your chest almost painfully, and you’re lightheaded with euphoria. The thrill that charges through your body is addicting, and you look back at Mando with a bright smile. 

_ Holy shit _ . 

“Did you see that?” Your eyes are wide, half-crazed with elation. “Lemme try again,” you raise the blaster again, a fiery, determined look in your eyes. 

“Go ahead.” Mando loosens his grip on your hips, but keeps a conscious distance just in case.

You aim again, and shoot. This time the blast hits the tree, leaving a scorching circle behind on the tree. The recoil leaves your shoulder aching, but you manage to stay upright this time.

Mando’s nodding when you spin around, looking for feedback. You can’t tell if he’s smiling, but you’d like to imagine that he is. “Attagirl,” he whispers with genuine admiration, and you have to bite your tongue to hold in the whine that threatens to leave your lips. 

Your shirt billows upwards from the wind, and the gloved hand on your hip burns against bare skin. You lean into his touch, intoxicated by his approval and the butterflies that flutter in your stomach. 

Mando stares down at you with hooded eyes, his own blood pumping hot, making his armor tight and uncomfortable. He holds your bold gaze for a second longer, before clearing his throat and pulling away. Just like that, whatever spell held you both in place is broken. 

“I think that’s enough for the day,” he mumbles, and turns away from you quickly. 

The absence of his touch, his warmth, is dizzying. But the electricity still dances over your skin. You let out a sigh, unaware that you were holding it, and feel your body relax as oxygen rushes back to your brain. By the time the haze has cleared, he’s twenty feet away, and walking swiftly back towards the city. 

You watch him go with dazed eyes. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t look back to see if you’re behind. The entire interaction leaves you more than a little confused. The wind reaches a crescendo, blowing sand into your face, and snapping you out of your fugue. You turn the safety off, tuck the blaster back into the holster, and run after him. 

* * *

The ship is quiet. Not a soul moves between it’s metal walls.

You lie on your cot in the corner of the engineering bay, staring up at the ceiling dark ceiling. Mando’s gone, visiting Greef Karga at the cantina to get some more pucks, and with all the repairs on the ship done, there is nothing else to distract your mind. 

It wanders back to the  _ lesson _ this morning. Replays the soft touches that made your skin prickle. The feeling of his chest, hard and cold, pressed against your back. His fingers on your hips, flexed as they held you upright. His voice in your ear, calm and even as he instructed you. 

You squeeze your thighs together, your body tense and aching from the heat that has pulsed underneath your skin all day, waiting for release. The memories flood over you and smash the dam of self-control, letting desire and longing crash over you in waves. You’re helpless to it, so desperate for some relief, that the need to get off outweighs all rational thinking. 

_ I have time _ . You think, untying the front of your shirt.  _ Mando won’t be back for hours _ . 

Your hands wander over your body, fingertips grazing the damp skin. Your chest heaves as your fingers skate over your body, down towards the waistband of your trousers. You squeeze your eyes shut as your fingertips reach the soft skin of your stomach, and breach the cotton of your underwear. 

A small jolt of electricity shoots through your body as your fingers tease your clit. You let out a quiet moan, hips lifting slightly to get more pressure. You take your time, fingers circling your clit in torturously slow circles until your breathing grows shallow, and sweat beads on your forehead. 

Your imagination takes over, and suddenly it’s Mando’s fingers on your clit, and his voice in your ear, urging you towards your orgasm with whispered “attagirls,” and “just like thats.” You throw your head back against the pillow as it fills with thought after thought of him pleasuring you. 

Maker, just the idea of his hand traveling up your body, squeezing your tit and tugging roughly at your nipple had your thighs shaking. You lose yourself in it, and as the line between reality and imagination frays, you can almost feel the ghost of his touch on your body. 

You trail a finger over the slick that coats your throbbing cunt, drag your fingers down through your swollen lips to your entrance. One finger slips inside you, presses up against your walls with delicious friction, but it’s not enough, and soon another one follows. You fuck yourself open, one hand between your thighs, the other massaging your breast. Your hips buck into your hand, pushing your fingers deeper, and all the while you’re thinking about how full you’d feel if it was Mando’s thick fingers inside of you instead. 

The thought sends you hurtling towards the edge and you cry out, back arching as pleasure seizes your body. 

It’s around this time that Mando enters the back of the ship. Your strangled cries concern him at first, and he creeps into the ship quietly, a hand lightly covering his blaster. But it’s the sharp yelp of his name that gives away the nature of your activities and leaves him frozen at the bottom of the ladder with blood pounding in his ears. He climbs up the rungs quietly, following the sound of moans that grow more frequent with every passing moment. 

They come from behind the curtain that surrounds your makeshift quarters. Curiosity gets the best of him and Mando brushes it to the side. It’s wrong, he knows it, but he can’t stop himself from watching you. You hypnotize him with your sighs and the writhing of your body partly covered by the coarse blanket that pools around your stomach. 

The peaks of your breasts surge up and down like perfect waves in a stormy ocean of desire. Your hips move under the blanket, and your body tenses as the embers of your orgasm grow. His eyes zero in on your lips, raw from your teeth and desperately shaping the letters of his name. 

“ _ Mando _ ,” you sigh, and the sound of it sends all of the blood in his body rushing down to his cock.

His mouth goes dry and his hand presses against his cock subconsciously to relieve the pressure. The throbbing heat boils inside of him, compressed with nowhere to go. His length aches in the confines of his armor and he longs to strip down, wrap his hands around himself and take the edge off. But he holds himself in place, while you let yourself go. 

You’re too into the throes of your mounting orgasm to notice the burning pair of eyes that watch your every move. The ember burns in the pit of your stomach, and your thighs tremble as your orgasm builds until you tumble over the edge. It shocks you into silence, squeezes the breath out of your lungs, and brings tears to your eyes. Your fingers thrust inside you sloppily, helping you ride out the waves of pleasure that threaten to suffocate you. 

And Mando watches it all, a low groan working its way out of his throat. The quiet, sated moan you let out when you come down breaks his resolve, and he stumbles away from the curtain before you can catch him peeping. 

You freeze, eyelids fluttering open at the familiar sound of his footsteps, right outside your quarters. Your heart leaps into your throat as you see the edge of his cape swish away and watch the curtain fall back into place. 

_ Fuck _ . You think, listening as the tread of his boots fade away, and the hangar door slams shut. 

_ How long had he been standing there? _ The question sends a shiver down your spine-- and something else, not the violation you were expecting, but something akin to fire that makes your clit throb as you think about him watching you. 

You cover your face with your arms and moan quietly, rubbing your thighs together. 

Outside, hidden from view, Mando leans against the hulking frame of the Razor Crest, stroking his cock quickly. His hand expertly squeezes his throbbing length, causing muffled pants and groans to spill from his lips. He bites back a grunt of your name, his hips bucking into his palm needily. 

His head swims with images of your body writhing under the blanket, and the soft moans of his name fill his ears in a dizzying mix that makes him see white. He comes then, his warm seed spilling over his fingers and onto the sand.

Mando falls back against the ship with a shudder, his deep breaths forming white clouds in the cool air. He runs his clean hand over his face. 

His desire for you blindsides him, surprises him with its intensity. This morning was a slip-up, a moment of weakness brought on by the way you stared up at him with those wide eyes and that sparkling grin of yours. He hadn’t realized that he could feel  _ that way _ for you. You, who had cornered him outside his ship one morning, and stubbornly insisted on fixing it up until he had given in. You who had been both a pain in the ass and a great comfort ever since. Sure you’d grown on him in the past few months, but these feelings were foreign, stronger. 

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling his pants up and kicking dirt over the evidence of his arousal. “ _ Fuck _ !” Mando slams a hand against the side of the ship. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a month of silence, Mando's true feelings finally come out when he rescues the reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The second and final part of Lessons! Hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> Please note the following chapter warnings: Alcohol. Attempted Assault. Stalking. Murder. Smut (18+).

The Razor Crest sits in an abandoned lot on the outskirts of Canto Bight. All around it, the city’s loud and rowdy nightlife stirs awake, but the inside of the ship is quiet. 

Normally you wouldn’t have minded the silence that solitude brings you, but today it makes you antsy. The past three weeks have been nothing _but_ quiet. Quiet so tense, it makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

You sit in the engineering bay, tinkering with spare parts-- your only source of entertainment over the past couple days. You’re trapped in the sordid town while Mando chases down a bounty. It must have been a big one to lure him to the underworld of Cantonica. He _hates_ Canto Bight with a burning passion, and who could blame him? It’s loud, crowded and dirty, the very antithesis of him. 

You haven’t seen him in a few days, since he left with his usual “I’ll be back, stay on the ship.” It had been the most words he’d spoken to you in three weeks. 

To say things had been awkward since Mando had caught you getting off, would be a major understatement. He hadn’t spoken a word to you besides the occasional damage reports on the ship and updates about his bounties. When he did bring himself to speak, his voice was measured and terse. 

You’d thought about confronting him numerous times in the past month, but had decided against it, scared that revealing that you knew would embarrass him so much he’d ask you to leave. That was the last thing you wanted, but you weren’t sure how much more you could take of him tiptoeing around you. 

It reminds you of the way he treated you in the first few months of your employment, not speaking to you unless absolutely necessary, but this is so much worse. At least back then he could stand to be in the same room as you. Now, every interaction is rushed, and laced with an awkwardness so strong it threatens to crush you. 

You feel it now, even though he’s not here. It lingers in the very walls of the ship, and not even the project you’re working on can distract you from it anymore. You drop the tools with a sigh. 

Mando hates you going out in Outer Rim systems alone, but you can’t stay cooped up in the Crest anymore;, it’ll drive you crazy. Besides, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

So, you decide to hit the town, looking for some alcohol to soothe your nerves. You switch your oil stained shirt for a clean one and pocket the pouch of credits you’d earned from odd jobs. You’re on the way out the hatch, when you notice the NN-14 on your work table, glinting dangerously in the little holster. You grab it, figuring it couldn’t hurt to have a little firepower on your side in such a rough neighborhood. 

The sun’s setting when you step out into the warm air, bathing everything in a reddish-orange glow. The city doesn’t look half as bad like this, even the trash on the side of the street seems to sparkle with a golden tint. You can see some of the appeal. 

Canto Bight is a mystery to you, a patchwork of nearly identical streets and crowded gambling dins. It’s loud, and you can’t go more than two feet without bumping into some drunk or other shady individual. It makes you long for the desert of Nevarro, calm and quiet, and practically abandoned. 

There’s a bar on almost every corner, a wide variety of jaunts that range from high end and expensive, to dilapidated and seedy. You walk on until you find a place somewhere between the two. 

The bar you choose, The Danchi, is a small hole in the wall. It’s loud, smokey and filled to the brim with patrons in various stages of inebriation. A live band plays in the corner, blaring shitty renditions of classic songs, but the drinkers don’t seem to mind much. You shoulder your way past the dancing couples towards the bar and slide into the tall chair. 

The bartender, a pretty Twi’lek woman, leans against the counter across from you. “Pick your poison.” She flashes a flirty grin and sits a glass on the bar. 

You order a drink, something strong and artificially fruity by the name of it, and lean forward, tracing patterns on the bar while you wait. The woman slides you your drink, and you hand her the credits in return. You were right about the drink, it’s almost unbearably sweet and just as strong. A lethal combination that makes your head fuzzy with just a sip. But you keep sipping it anyways, determined to enjoy it. 

With the alcohol slowly burning its way through your system, the music in the shitty bar becomes tolerable, and you’re able to push Mando away into the far recesses of your mind. The band begins playing a song you recognize, a quick upbeat tone, and you hum along softly, as you look around the bar. 

You lock eyes with a man sitting at a table across the room, surrounded by his friends. He grins when your eyes meet, a wide wolfish grin that makes your stomach churn, and gives you a small wave. You turn away quickly, keeping your eyes down on the table. 

The man slides into the empty stool beside you a few moments later. He’s one of those traditionally attractive men who have been seducing women from a young age and just do it now for fun. He’s scruffy in a street-rat kind of way, wearing a well-worn leather jacket and a rumpled shirt. There’s too much product in his hair, and you could probably smell the cologne he’s wearing from a mile away. His golden eyes glint cockily as he looks you up and down. You don’t return the gesture or the sentiment. 

“I’ve never seen you here before,” he shouts over the loud music. “I think I would remember laying eyes on the most beautiful woman in the galaxy.” 

You roll your eyes. “That line work for you often?” You ask monotonously. 

“Can’t say I’ve had any trouble with it before.” He runs a hand through his shaggy brown hair.

“I think you just did,” you mutter, wishing he would just leave you alone. 

He flashes you an insistent smile. “I’m Javin Russ,” he says, leaning closer to you. 

“Yeah.” You turn to face him. “Listen, Javin, I’m not really looking for a hookup tonight, but I’m sure there are plenty of other desperate people here who would love to spend an evening with you. Better luck with them.” You raise your hand to flag down the bartender.

“Let me buy you a drink.” Javin grabs your wrist, and it sends a shiver of repulsion down your arm. 

You snatch your hand away. “No thank you, I’ve got my own money.”

Javin’s smile turns into a sneer. “Look, I’m just trying to be nice.” 

“No, you’re trying to get into my pants, and I already told you I’m not interested. So do me a favor and go back over to your table and leave me alone. Okay?” 

“You should learn to accept the kindness of strangers, instead of acting like such a bitch,” he grumbles as he gets up. 

You’re two seconds from pulling up your shirt and revealing the blaster you wear on your hip, but the bartender comes to your aid. 

“ _You_ should learn to stop acting like a creep,” she snaps. “Leave her alone, Russ, or I’ll have Vinca escort you out.” She points to a large Devaronian standing in the corner. “He hasn’t gotten to throw anyone out tonight, I’m sure he’d be happy to make you his first.” 

Javin glares at the bartender for a moment, before turning his eyes to you. “I’ll be seeing you,” he mutters before storming away. 

You watch him saunter back to his table, an unsettling feeling sinking deep in your stomach. 

“Don’t worry about Javin, he’s all bark and no bite,” she says, sliding you another glass full of the fruity concoction you drank before. “He’s been here every night for as long as I can remember. He’s always making moves on the ladies and throwing tantrums when his advances go unreciprocated.” 

“And here I thought I was special.” You grin at her, and swirl your straw around your drink. “Thanks for chasing him off.” 

“Of course. I’m Na’vena, by the way. Let me know if you need anything else.” She winks, before walking away to help another customer. 

You manage to salvage the rest of your evening, drinking and singing along to the band, which you’ve now decided is not nearly as bad as you thought before. A drink and a half later, you’ve reached that glorious buzz, one that covers the world with a bright, hazy glow and makes your body feel looser. You feel good, light and relaxed, but still in control. You wave to Na’vena, and slide a few credits across the bar as a tip, effectively cutting yourself off for the night. It’s probably best not to wander the streets of Canto Bight drunk, anyways, especially this late at night. 

You leave the bar and walk out into the cold night. The streets are darker now, but the nightlife around the bar continues to flourish. You keep your head down and your hands stuffed in the pocket of your trousers as you make your way down the crowded streets. 

You walk and walk for what feels like an hour, turning down streets and retracing your steps, but you’re no closer to the ship. In fact, it seems like you’ve only managed to wind up deeper into the dark, winding maze of the city. And when did it get so quiet? There’s no more music and laughter, just a big, deep silence that sets your nerves on end.

Shadows gather in the alleyways, long pools of inky blackness that creep in the corner of your eyes but disappear when you face them head on. The wind blows, an eerie whistling sound that raises goosebumps on your skin, and makes your blood run cold. You shake your head, chalking it all up to drinks you had earlier. You’re just seeing things. Still, the unsettling feeling in your stomach continues to steadily grow. 

It’s then you realize that you’re not alone. There are two extra sets of heavy footsteps echoing off the high walls, two long shadows framing yours, adding to the gnawing feeling in your gut. You risk the glance behind you. 

Javin, and one of his friends from the bar trail ten feet behind you. He raises a hand in a sly greeting, the full moon glints off his wolfish smile. Your heart leaps into your throat, and a chilling sweat breaks out down your back. 

You pick up the pace, try your best to lose them, but it’s not working. They’re still behind you, albeit closer now, closing the gap with each one of their long strides. You break out into a run, forgetting all about subtly. Their raucous laughter chases you down the dark alley. You turn the corner, and come up short, the street’s a dead end. 

Dread, cold and heavy settles like a weight in your chest. It sobers you up instantly, crushing your lungs, making your breathing shallow and heavy. You scan the street, hoping for help of some kind, but it’s deserted, dark and quiet. The tiny bloom of hope you had shrivels up to nothing. You’re on your own.

But, not completely. The small blaster is tucked into the holster at your side. You thank sober you for deciding to bring it along. The weight of it resting against your hip gives you some semblance of comfort. You’ll fight your way out of this if you have to. 

“There she is,” Javin shouts drunkenly from somewhere behind you. 

You whirl around. They stand at the mouth of the street, blocking the entrance. 

“Thought we lost you for a moment.” Javin takes a step forward, and his friend follows close behind him. “Shoulda known you would put up a chase. This one loves playing hard to get, Kado” he tells his friend. 

Your hand lands on the handle of the gun, gripping it tightly as you stumble backwards over your feet. Your heartbeat is pounding so loudly in your ears that it makes you dizzy. 

“We didn’t get to talk much back at the cantina,” He continues, stalking towards you. “Very rude of you and that Na’vena to cut the conversation short when we were just getting to know each other.” 

“Stay back,” you shout, pulling the gun from the holster. You flick your thumb against the safety, and the dull click of it stops the men in their tracks. “I mean it. Don’t come any closer.” 

The metal blaster is so cold against your palm that it’s almost painful, your hands tremble so much you’re scared you’ll drop the damn thing. Your sweaty fingers glide over the trigger, unable to gain any traction. Shooting at a tree was one thing, looking a man, even a man as vile as Javin, in the eyes as you shot him was completely different. All the training Mando had given you was worthless if you couldn’t use it when you needed it the most.

“ _Oh-ho_. That’s a cute little piece.” Javin puts his hands up. “You know how to use that thing sweetheart?” he taunts. 

“Take a step closer, and you’ll find out.” The cockiness in your tone is a facade, a pathetic attempt to conceal the panic that’s coursing through your body. Your hands are shaking so badly, you’re not even sure you could take aim if you tried. 

Javin snorts. “Told you she was a feisty one, huh Kado?” He crosses his arms over his chest, and amusement flashes in his eyes. 

The corner of Kado’s lips quirk upwards as he looks you up and down. You feel the weight of his gaze on your body, it makes your skin crawl. “I do like them fiery.”

“Doesn’t quite know when to shut her mouth though.” 

Kado shrugs, his hands coming to rest on his utility belt. “Guess we’ll have to teach her.” 

They descend on you slowly, teeth bared into twisted grins, as they close the distance between you. Javin and Kado are close, so close you can smell the mix of alcohol and death sticks on their breath. The sharp smell of it fills your nostril, makes you sick and dizzy. 

You will your fingers to pull the trigger, scream at them with every bit of your will power. But there’s a disconnect of some kind, that keeps your finger hovering stiffly over the mechanism. You’re unable to do anything but retreat. You take stumbling steps backward, until your back hits the wall, trapping you like a wild animal. The damp stone digs into your back, sharply. The pain of it clears the fog in your mind. You’re not going to let them touch you. 

Your fingers curl around the trigger and you fire the blaster. The shot goes wide, missing Kado’s cheek by a foot, but it makes the men stop. Kado looks like he’s shit his pants, face white as a sheet, and lips pulled into a thin line. 

But Javin just claps, a teasing smirk on his face. “Didn’t think you had it in you, darling.” He laughs. “You’re not much of a shot though.” 

“I am.” A voice comes from behind the men, makes them whirl around. It’s deep and modulated, and makes you breathe a sigh of relief. “Touch her, and I won’t miss.”

Your beskar-wearing hero stands in the alleyway, holding a blaster in each hand. You’ve never been this happy to see somebody in your entire life. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Javin looks Mando up and down, unimpressed.

“Someone you really don’t want to mess with.” Mando takes a step forward, and his armor glints menacingly in the moonlight. “Walk away, this is your one and _only_ warning.” 

Kado seems to have found his voice again. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s two on one. We could take you--” 

His challenge is interrupted by the loud _bang_ of the blaster in Mando’s hand. The sudden noise makes you jump. The ray finds its home in Kado’s chest, and Kado stares down at the smoking hole in his shirt, shocked, before keeling over. His head hits the stone with a sickening crack. 

“One to one,” Mando says coldly, turning his attention to Javin. “Anyone else wanna make any other stupid challenges?” 

Javin looks from Mando to his dead friend, and then back again. “Look, man, we didn’t mean any trouble, we just wanted to talk to her.” 

“Really?” Mando tilts his head to the side. “From where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like she wanted to talk to you.” He points the blaster at Javin, his voice taking on a sharp edge. 

Javin holds his hands up and takes a step back. “Really, we weren’t gonna hurt her.” 

“So, she pulled a gun on you because she felt safe?” 

“I know what this looks like--” 

“Two scumbags about to attack a woman? I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Mando says. “You’re lucky you’re not worth my time. Leave, I’m not going to tell you again.” 

“But my friend--” 

“You could join him,” Mando suggests. “Or you can go on with your life and forget this ever happened, your choice. But make it quick, I’m not a very patient man.” 

Javin looks down at Kado, face white as a sheet, and in an _incredible_ show of loyalty, takes off down the alley. You stand frozen, still pressed against the wall. Mando holsters his blasters and walks towards you slowly.

“You okay?” He asks, resting his hands on your shoulders as he scans your body for injuries. _Nothing physical_. 

It’s then that you become aware of just how badly you’re shaking. You take a shuddery breath, and lean against the wall as the thick ball in your throat unravels. “I…” You rub your hand over your clammy forehead. “I’m fine. I just need a moment.” 

You’re lying of course. You’re two seconds from falling apart, and not doing a very good job at hiding it, but thankfully, Mando doesn’t call you out on it. He takes the blaster from your trembling hand and you let it go willingly. The feeling of it against your palms makes your stomach flip in repulsion.

“You’re not gonna throw up on me right?” Mando asks. “Because this beskar is hard to clean.”

You rub your hands on your trousers, and stand up straight. “I’ll be okay. I’m not gonna ruin your precious beskar.” 

He squeezes your shoulders and takes a step away from you. “Good.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his demeanor shifting from one of soft concern to sternness. What the hell are you doing out here? I told you to stay on the ship.” 

“I--I just wanted a drink, and I got lost.” You stammer. 

“Those two followed you from the bar?” Mando asks, nodding over his shoulder. 

You swallow thickly. “Yeah.” 

“C’mon.” Mando sighs, exasperated, and grabs your elbow, all but dragging you out of the alley, past Kado’s body. 

Your feet trip over the uneven stones as you do your best to keep up with his long strides. “Thanks for saving me back there,” you stutter. 

His grip on your arm just tightens as he masterfully navigates the maze of streets, towing you behind him all the while. He doesn’t speak again, he doesn’t need to. The hot-white anger rolls off of his body in waves, but there’s something else there too, an acute fear, almost stronger than the dark rage. It brings a chill to your body, one that reaches deeper than the cold night, a chill that sticks deep in your bones and confuses you. Mando’s not one to scare easily. 

You begin to recognize your surroundings again. There’s the shabby bar you stumbled out of a mere hour ago, the patrons inside continue their merry benders oblivious to the violence that took place a few blocks away. Though you’re sure they wouldn’t care much if they actually knew. The building looks ten times seedier as you pass it a second time, and you neglect to tell Mando it had been your previous destination, knowing it would earn you another lecture. 

Mando drags you back to the ship, his grip on your arm the whole time. Before you know it, you’re aboard the Crest. He drops your arm and climbs the ladder without a word. You follow him, keeping a wide berth, because he’s pacing now, on the verge of exploding. 

You lean against your table waiting for the onslaught. Hurricane Mando was brewing, churning right before your eyes with each pass back and forth between the small walls of the engineering bay. You’re almost sure this lecture will be worse than the one Corellia got you. 

He stops, turning towards you sharply, and you brace yourself. 

“What were you thinking, going out like that alone? You could have gotten yourself hurt, or _worse_ ,” Mando snaps. 

You look down at your feet. “I just wanted to get a drink. I got bored and--” 

“You should have waited for me to get back.” 

“I didn’t know when you’d be back. You didn’t give me a time frame.” You roll your eyes. “And I didn’t think--” 

He huffs. “That’s right, you didn’t _think_. You never think. You can’t just wander around Canto Bight drunk--

“I wasn’t drunk,” you mutter, crossing your hands over your chest. 

“--especially when you have no idea where you’re going.” Mando barrels on without even taking a breath. “You’re lucky I found you when I did.” He resumes his pacing. 

_Yeah that was an awfully lucky coincidence. Unless it wasn’t one._

“How did you know where I was?” You ask quietly. 

It’s his turn to be caught off guard. Mando falters mid-step “Um…”

“Are you tracking me?” You ask, and he doesn’t answer, which only serves to annoy you more. “You are, aren’t you but how...” You pause, eyes landing on the blaster tucked into the holster on his hip. “ _Sonofabitch_. The blaster.” 

He nods, his body stiff.

It was genius actually, and you’ve already made up your mind to figure out how the tracking mechanism works later, but right now, you’re furious at the invasion of your privacy. “You’ve been tracking me for a whole month. Were you even going to tell me?” 

Mando shakes his head. “Didn’t think you’d take the news very well.” 

“Yeah, no shit. Why are you tracking me, like I’m a fucking child?” 

“Because you act like a child! You’re always throwing yourself into stupid situations, like tonight. I told you to stay on the ship, and you didn’t listen, you never listen. And after Corellia, I...I just don’t want to find you hurt, or dead, in some dirty fucking alley somewhere because you were too stubborn to just listen to me.” His voice, loud and flushed with passion, fills the ship. “At least this way I can try to keep you safe from your own stupidity.” 

_Yeah-fucking-right_ . You roll your eyes and a laugh bubbles out of your throat involuntarily. “I’m sorry. It’s just, you’ve got a really funny way of showing you care. You’ve been avoiding me for _weeks_. You wouldn’t even look at me. It took me almost getting jumped for you to even speak to me, and now you’re telling me all of this.” You scoff. “Y’know maybe if you hadn’t been ignoring me this whole month, I wouldn’t have gone out tonight, and you wouldn’t have had to risk your neck to protect me.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mando deadpans, but you catch the hesitation in his voice. “I haven’t been ignoring you.” 

“Oh fucking hell, just stop it. _I know_ , okay? I know you saw me a few weeks ago,” you blurt. “I wasn’t going to bring it up, but then you started making everything so awkward. I don’t care that you saw me. It was a mistake, we can forget it ever happened. Just please stop being so weird around me.” 

You stare at Mando, waiting for him to say something to quell the mounting tension, but he stands there still as a statue and quiet like one too. Maybe you were too stupid to hope you guys could move past this. You sigh, and stand moving to brush past him to your quarters. You’re acutely aware of the exhaustion filling your bones, and eager to just go to bed and forget about this whole day. 

But Mando grabs your arm and pulls you back to him. You fall against him, pressing your hands against his chest to keep your balance; the beskar is cold and unwavering against your fingers. Mando grips your chin gently, tilting your head up to look at him. Your heartbeat leaps into your ears, thudding almost painfully. The sound almost drowns out his voice, softer now, as he speaks again. 

“I don’t want to forget,” he mumbles. 

You blink stupidly at your reflection in his dark visor. “You don’t...you don’t want to forget.” 

“You scare me.” Mando runs his thumb over your jaw. “You make me feel things that I shouldn’t, and I don’t want those feelings to stop. But, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you got hurt, because it would be my fault. I shouldn’t keep dragging you around with me and putting you in danger, but I do. Because I’m too…” He trails off, tongue too heavy to share the secret. “I’m too selfish to let you go,” he admits in a quiet whisper. 

You’re frozen, mouth agape as you process the information. It had been a wild night, with many twists and turns and now the biggest reveal of all, that Mando wanted you the way you wanted him. 

“Say something,” he urges nervously, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip.

“What things?” You breathe out. Your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting from his proximity. 

He takes a step forward, backing you up against the table. His hand falls to your hip, both steadying you and lifting you up onto the table. Tools and half-finished projects tumble to the floor, but you’re too caught up in the moment, and his confession, to care. 

Mando towers over you, his body dwarfing yours as he stares down at you. “Things I shouldn’t act on,” he mumbles, squeezing your hip. 

You take a shuddering breath, almost sure he can hear your hammering heart. Your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips as his hand brushes over the base of your throat, pausing briefly over your pulse. 

“What if I want you to act on them?” You hardly recognize your voice, it’s low and heady and rolls off your tongue like satin. 

He doesn’t answer, just tilts his head to the side as his fingers continue their slow path up and down your throat. 

You wish you could see his face, see if there’s any hint of contemplation in his eyes. Mando’s fingers brush back and forth across your jaw. The anticipation makes you antsy. It’s almost pathetic just how much his little touches grow the wet heat between your thighs. You need him to say something, do something. Just give you some sort of sign about his intentions.

You reach up and grab his hand, move it back to your lips and press a kiss to his fingers. “Please,” you whisper. “I want you.” You bite the tip of his glove and tug on it slowly, until his hand is bare and the leather fabric hangs from your mouth.

Mando sucks in a breath, his body going rigid. The glove falls to the floor in front of you. You pause for a moment, a heavy silence hanging in the charged air between the two of you. Tension crackles like lightning in a storm, and neither one of you know where it’s going to strike first. 

After what feels like an eternity, he makes the first move. Mando touches your face tentatively, letting the pads of his fingertips linger over your skin. His calloused fingers stroke your cheek gently, his touch heightened now that it’s uninhibited by the gloves. You lean into his touch, lips parted slightly as his thumb sweeps over your bottom lip. Your tongue touches the pad of his thumb, flicks against the rough skin; it tastes of sweat and old leather. 

Mando groans, low and gravelly, and presses himself up against your body. Cold metal molds against hot skin, making you shiver. He fits himself between your thighs, pressing his hard length against your inner thigh. He ruts against you, and you gasp. Your hot, labored breaths fog up his dark visor, and the sight sends a hot spike of pleasure through your body. 

Mando’s hand travels lower now, emboldened by your wantonness. He undoes the buttons of your shirt, and pulls the fabric aside to reveal your skin, flushed and goosebumped. He watches your breasts swell up and down as you take deep, heaving breaths. Slowly, achingly slow, he trails his fingers down your chest, and you sigh, curling your fingers around the edge of the metal table. 

You stay still as his fingers explore your body, fearing that if you move you’ll scare him away and lose his touch. You close your eyes, focusing on the dull ache growing in your core. It takes every ounce of your self-control to keep you from grinding down onto his thigh. 

His fingertips ghost over your breast and he grunts at the warmth of your soft skin, marvelling at the foreign sensation. Mando squeezes your breast and you exhale a breathy moan that makes his mouth go dry. His heated gaze flits over your face, landing on your lips, slightly parted and a little ragged where your teeth have dug into them. He wants to kiss you senseless, taste the little moans that fall from your lips like sweet honey. 

“Do you trust me?” Mando whispers, and you jump, eyes snapping open in surprise. It’s the first time he’s spoken in what seems like an eternity. “Do you?” He asks again when you don’t answer. 

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

“Tell me.” He makes you look at him. 

“I trust you,” you say. “Why?” 

Mando leans his forehead against yours. “I want to kiss you, but to do that, I have to remove my helmet,” he explains. “And I can’t let you see my face, so you’ll need to keep your eyes closed. Can you do that for me?” 

“You trust _me_ to keep my eyes closed?” 

He nods, taking a step back from you, and you already miss his touch. “I’d trust you with my life,” he says plainly and without a hint of deception in his tone. 

And he is in a way. Revealing himself to you, even with your eyes closed, is risky. One wrong move, one slip up, and it’s all over for him. It’s the ultimate lesson in vulnerability, the ultimate test of trust. He trusts you so completely, and it makes warmth bloom in your chest.

“Okay.” You nod. “I’ll do it.” 

“Close your eyes,” Mando says softly.

You do, body tense as you’re suddenly engulfed in darkness. You strain your ears to listen for his movements, but the only thing that greets your ears is silence. And then...the dull thud as pieces of his armor hit the floor. You shift, squeezing your thighs together as desire pools, hot and heavy, in your lower stomach.

The next time his body presses to yours, his chest is naked. You gasp at the brush of his hot skin against yours. You squirm closer to him, push your body flush against him so his chest is scraping yours with everyone of your ragged breaths. 

He cups your face gently, his breath fanning over your lips as he leans forward. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” he warns. “Okay?” 

“Okay.” You hold your own breath, heart flitting in your chest, and stomach rolling in anticipation of the kiss. 

Mando brushes his lips over yours shyly, once, twice. The third time, his lips mold to yours, kissing you with an intensity that steals the breath from your lungs. You lean into the kiss, moaning as his tongue swipes over your bottom lip. 

Your hands reach out and settle on his chest, running your fingers over the scarred skin. Mando shudders, groaning against your mouth. He tilts your chin, kissing you hungrily as his hips buck into yours. You gasp, wrapping a leg around his waist to keep him pressed against you. 

Mando’s lips travel across your jaw and down your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses to every inch of your dewy skin. His tongue darts out to lap at the sweat that beads at the base of your neck, desperate to taste every part of you. Your fingers twist into his hair, tugging slightly as he nips at your pulse. 

Mando kneads your breasts, his teeth digging into your neck harshly until you let out a breathless whimper and buck your hips into his. He chuckles against your shoulder, and rolls your nipples between his fingers. 

“I’ve wanted this, wanted you,” he mumbles, pinching your nipples. “Since the moment I saw you touching yourself under the blankets, mumbling my name.” Mando drags his nails down your stomach, and tugs at the waistband of your trousers. “It felt so wrong, but now...I can’t control myself.” 

“Please.” You lift your hips towards his fingers. “Please, touch me.” 

“I am,” he feigns ignorance, but he knows what you mean. 

You move his hand between your thighs. “Touch me here.” 

Mando rubs a knuckle against your clothed clit, and you moan brokenly, tilting your head back. “I thought there was no way you could want someone like me,” he whispers against your neck. “I was so wrong.” 

He tugs at the strings at the top of your pants, and dips his fingers into your waistband. His fingers hover over the damp fabric of your panties. 

“Are you sure you want this?” Mando breathes against the shell of your ear. 

“Yes, Mando, please.” Your voice is a heady whisper. 

The way you say his name stirs something deep inside him. Some foreign, longing feeling he knows will only be soothed by your body and your touch. It’s equal parts thrilling, equal parts terrifying, this passion that brews inside him, threatening to shatter his composure. He pauses, mind racing as he stares down a line previously marked uncrossable. 

You sense his hesitation, and the anxiety that fuels it. This is a dangerous game you’re both playing, and once you cross the line, there’s no coming back. 

“Hey.” Your fingers seek him out, and he grabs your hand, guiding it towards his face. “I want this,” you assure him, running your thumb over his jaw. “I want _you_ , in whatever way you’ll have me.” 

Mando nods and kisses you again, this time hungrier, more confidently. It sends fire racing through your veins. His hands roam your body, memorizing the feel of you. You’re warm and pliant underneath his touch, and he finds himself craving more and more of you. 

He doesn’t hesitate this time when he reaches your pants, tugging them down your legs hastily, and tossing them to the side. Mando runs his hands up your smooth thighs, and watches the way you inhale sharply when he presses a hand between your thighs. He rubs at your clothed clit, marvelling at the damp patch growing on your panties, and a small smile grows as he takes in your changed expression. You tilt your head back, mouth falling open at the sweet pressure. 

“Fuck,” you groan, and his smile spreads wider. 

Eager to speed things up, and stop the teasing, you run your own hands down the contours of his body towards his crotch. Mando breaks the kiss and groans as you rub at the outline of his cock, hard and straining against his own trousers. He bucks into your hand, pressing a sloppy kiss to your jaw. 

You fumble with the button for a moment, but finally manage to get it undone. You shove his pants down with your feet, as your hands wrap around his leaking cock, relying on touch where your sight fails you. He’s hot and heavy in your hands, and it makes your mouth water. You know you’ll dream about sucking him off for weeks to come. 

For now, you flick your thumb over the tip, spreading the precum down his length, and making him groan hotly in your ear. He buries his face into your neck, body going stiff as your hands begin a slow pace. He thrusts into your hand, hips following your torturous rhythm. Here stands the Mandalorian, the big bad bounty hunter, reduced to a puddle, and simply by your hand. Any other time, being this vulnerable would scare him, but he feels safe here in this moment with you. 

Mando bites your shoulder, holding in another moan, as your hand jerks him a little faster. Yeah, he’d done this to himself several times, but there’s something about the way your hand grips him, that makes the experience so much better. Not one to just take, Mando moves your panties to the side and runs a finger between your lips. You’re warm and wet and he wants nothing more than to sink a finger inside of you and explore your wanting pussy. 

“Can I?” He teases a finger against your entrance, and you shudder.

“ _Please_.” Just the thought of his fingers buried inside you makes you want to explode. 

It’s not the first time you’ve begged for his touch tonight, but it is the most broken plea, and the sound of it makes his hips jerk forward. 

Mando pushes a finger into your entrance, and groans at the way your walls clench down around it tightly. You whimper as the thick digit stretches you open. It’s a feeling completely different than any sensation your fingers could have given you. He crooks his finger slowly, holding it there while he flicks his thumb against your clit, just watching and memorizing your every reaction. 

“ _Mando_ ,” you sigh, grinding down against his palm. You can’t handle anymore of his teasing. 

He uncurls his finger, and pulls it out of you, almost completely, before thrusting it back in. He repeats the action again and again, until his name is falling off your lips in choked pleas. Your body seizes up, toes curling, and your hand wraps his wrist urging him to continue. The first inklings of your orgasm bloom in your stomach, threatening to crash into you and sweep you away. 

“Oh, Maker, _fuck_ ,” you babble shamelessly. “Just like that, Mando, you make me feel so good.” 

Mando grunts, his body going rigid at the praise. He doubles down on his efforts, wanting to bring you to the peak of pleasure he witnessed you experience weeks ago. He adds a second finger, taking it to be a good sign when you fall back limply against the table with a reedy cry of his name. 

He leans over you, biting your heaving breasts as his digits move relentlessly inside of you. Your fingers wrap themselves in his sweaty curls, searching for an anchor in the rolling storm that threatens to overtake you. You’re close, so deliciously close, to your orgasm, and growing ever closer still with each thrust of his fingers into your tight heat. 

“I’m gonna come,” you moan, throwing your head back. “You’re gonna make me come.”

“Attagirl,” Mando grunts and sucks your nipple into his mouth. “Come for me.” 

You move your hips against his fingers sloppily, desperately, chasing your orgasm. It crashes into you suddenly, rendering you unable to breathe as you ride the wave of pleasure. Your nails dig into Mando’s wrist as you come with a strangled moan of his name. His fingers don’t stop moving in and out of you, pumping electricity into your veins, and you shudder with each pass of his thumb over your oversensitive clit. 

You fall back to earth with a small whimper, one you can barely even hear over the blood that’s rushing in your ear. Your whole body feels heavy, your thighs ache in the best way. You cover your eyes with your arm, not fully trusting yourself to uphold the deal now that you’re hopped up on orgasmic bliss. 

Mando, now harder than ever after watching you fall apart, stands above you, stroking his cock insistently. He grips your thigh tightly, eyes trained on your swollen cunt. Your lips glisten in the dim light of his ship, and your inner thighs are sticky with your arousal. He groans as his cock twitches against his palm, the telltale sign that he’s close. 

“I’m gonna--” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m gonna…”

“C’mon, Mando. Give it to me. Want it so bad.” You cover his hand with your own, taking over his sloppy rhythm. 

The hand on your thigh tightens for just a moment, and then Mando’s moaning brokenly as he comes, showering his cum all over your thighs and lower stomach in thick ropes. His hips jerk against your hand a few more times, accompanied by low, strangled groans, and he slumps against you, pillowing his head on your breasts. 

“Shit,” he groans. “We just--” 

“Yeah,” you answer, running your fingers through his damp hair. “You change your mind about not wanting to forget?” You ask, even though you know it’s impossible. Nothing short of a complete memory wipe would make either of you forget this. 

Mando’s breath comes out in a chuckle. “You’re kidding, right? That was...incredible.” 

You grin, letting your fingers dance over his shoulders. “Yeah? You sure you’re not gonna ignore me for three weeks after this?” You’re teasing, but only just so. 

He sighs, shifting slightly to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry,” he whispers when he pulls away. “I shouldn’t have done that, it’s just--”

“I get it. I was scared too.” You cup his jaw. “I will accept your apology on one condition” 

“What’s that?” His lips brush over the marks on your throat. 

“You gotta keep giving me lessons,” you say. “We’re not gonna stop until I’m a better shot than you. And the next asshole that tries to mess with me, is gonna get more than he bargained for.” 

You don’t see the way the corner of his lip quirks slightly upwards. Nor are you aware to the light that dances in his eyes, or the affectionate gaze with which he regards you, but you feel every bit of it in the way he presses a fleeting kiss to your lips and says: 

“Deal.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> Check out my tumblr: @generaldamneron

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated  
> Check out my tumblr: @generaldamneron


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